


Foam

by KingOfTheCliche



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathrooms, Bunker Sex, Castiel in the Bunker, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfTheCliche/pseuds/KingOfTheCliche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean worked hard to add a tub to the bunker's bathroom. Castiel still can't knock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foam

In the last few years, Dean had accepted the bunker as his home. He realized all too well that this was a dangerous notion; that attachment meant pain when the inevitable loss happened. He couldn’t help it though. Waking up in the same bed every morning, getting to fix himself and Sam breakfast at his own leisurely pace, not having to worry if someone spit in his food or had his hands somewhere untasteful right before preparing it… To Dean, it was the height of luxury.

All that didn’t mean that he thought the bunker was perfect. It had its flaws. The doors were heavy and the library could do with some expanding and the numerous guest rooms took a hell of a lot of time to clean. (Dean took Sam’s word for that one. He didn’t see the use of cleaning rooms nobody would use anyway.) Even the bathroom, while close to perfection, could do with some modifications. Modifications that Dean had carried out slowly, in between cases and depressions. It had been hard work and more than once he found himself frustrated at the sheer complications plumbing could come with, but in the end it was worth it. Now, the bathroom of the bunker had a bathtub. And not just any bathtub, but one of the fanciest ones out there. Bubbles, jets, enough room to fit three people (four if they were really skinny, two if they were Dean’s size) – all in all, it was a better paradise than the one Dean had briefly witnessed up in heaven.

The bathtub is where Dean was sitting now, enjoying the heat, the bubbles and even the orange scent of the water. In the back of his mind he realized that maybe this wasn’t what real men were supposed to do with their time and hard-earned (stolen) money, but considering his job earned him enough points on the virility scale, he ignored that unease and sunk further into the  foam.

He’d been in the water for quite a while. His fingers and toes were pruny and every muscle in his body was relaxed beyond bliss. Except for a few of them down south. With the thought of somebody’s warm mouth, someone who would do all the work for him so he could stay relaxed like this, he trailed his hand over his abdomen and curled his fingers around his cock.

‘Dean.’

His eyes flew open. Castiel was standing next to his bathtub, fully dressed in trench coat and tie. His face seemed expressionless, save for a slight tremble at the corner of his mouth, as if he supressed the reflex to laugh.

‘Cas.’ Dean stated dryly. Four years ago, he would have gone berserk at the idea of one of God’s personal cavaliers intruding on such an intimate moment, but he and Cas had had so much history, so much shared moments, that it seemed unnecessary and over the top to make a fuss for something that was simply a habit.

‘I need your help’, Cas said without preamble.

‘I’m in the tub’, Dean pointed out. When Cas frowned slightly, he sighed. ‘Fine, I’ll be out in a second.’

Neither of them moved.

‘Cas…’ Dean started slowly. Cas was still standing there, observing Dean’s face. Dean was still half hard beneath the layer of foam, but he was loath to ask Cas to leave. The guy had spent enough freaking time as a human that he should have learned basic personal space laws by now.

Taking a quick, brazen decision, Dean stood up. Cas’ eyes snapped lightning quick over his body before setting firmly on his face again. It was hard to tell in the soft light, but Dean could almost detect a slight blush on his cheeks. Maybe being human had had some effect after all.

It was a bit weird an awkward to be standing naked in front of a friend of over six years, who also happened to be an angel. Before his resolve could slip, Dean asked: ‘Hand me a towel, could you?’

Cas looked around, spotted a fluffy, old-fashioned towel on the rack by the far side and went over to get it. Dean stepped out of the tub and stood dripping on the mat next to it. The temperature change made him shiver slightly.

‘Here you go.’ Cas reached out to give him the towel, eyes still firmly fixed on Dean’s face.

Dean took the towel from him and ignored the small shock of electricity that shot between their fingers. ‘Thanks. You can take a look, you know’, he added, without really thinking. What he thought he wanted to do was break the tension, which had hung unmistakably in the bathroom ever since he’d stood up in the tub. The towel hung useless in his hand.

Cas’ eyes kept resting on his face, but then they dipped lower, to his chin, neck, chest – and then they snapped up again.

Dean didn’t understand why he suddenly couldn’t breathe well. What was he doing? Was teasing Cas about his unfamiliarity with human bodies still funny after all this time? Was he even trying to be funny anymore?

‘Cas,’ Dean said calmly, but firmly. ‘Look at me – all of me.’

‘Dean, I –’ Cas swallowed audibly. He moved his feet, as if he wanted to take a step forward, but refrained from it at the last moment.

Dean stayed quiet and observed Castiel as if through a veil. He thought he saw longing on Cas’ face, mixed with pain, which made him feel all kinds of conflicted.

Finally, Cas let his eyes stray downward. Slowly, mapping Dean’s torso and arms and dipping down still until his eyes were fixed on Dean’s cock. ‘Turn around’, he said, in a tone that wasn’t to be argued with.

Dean hadn’t expected that and froze for a heartbeat. Then he turned, slowly, but not too slow. There was no need to be nervous about this. Whatever this was.

When he was faced from Castiel, he heard the angel take a step forward, until Dean could feel the edges of the trench coat rustle against his cooling skin.

‘Dean,’ Cas spoke his name on an exhale, which made it hard to understand him. Dean felt an arm around his middle, and then another one and before he knew it, he had taken an involuntary step back and was pressed against Cas, while excess water seeped into his coat. ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ Cas’ voice was low, a whisper against his cheek.

‘I don’t know’, Dean replied truthfully. He had grown so much harder in the past few minutes his sack actually started hurting.

‘Tell me if you want to stop.’ On those words Cas moved his hands – which had been roaming Dean’s chest – downwards. He cupped Dean’s junk with both his hands and pressed down.

Dean sucked in so much oxygen he instantly felt light headed. He laid his hands over Cas’. Realizing he was shaking, he tried to laugh to reassure himself and Cas, but it came out nervous and higher than he thought he was capable of. He could feel Cas smile against his cheek and wished he could see that.

‘Calm down’, Cas rumbled. And then softer: ‘I’ve got you.’

‘Literally’, Dean mumbled and then Cas started moving his fingers and all coherent thought dissolved. He vaguely realized Cas must have done this before, with the way he kept speaking small nonsense into Dean’s ear. Cas’ right hand travelled up Dean’s shaft. At the top he pressed his thumb onto the slit of the head, which made buck his hips. He didn’t get far though, because Cas’ left arm held on tightly to his hip, while his left hand dipped lower and grabbed Dean’s sack and fondled it lightly.

‘Fuck’, Dean cursed. He was breaking a sweat just thinking about the situation. Cas left him no time to process the situation, especially not when he traced the vein at the underside of his cock with his index.

Cas started working him in earnest now. He steadily pumped Dean, alternating rhythms, keeping him on the edge without letting him go.

‘Cas.’ Dean had closed his eyes and leaned back his head against Castiel, who was looking over his shoulder at what his hands were doing.

‘I’m right here.’ Cas followed up his words with a feather light kiss against Dean’s neck. That more than anything pushed Dean over the edge completely. Cas pressed him closer into his chest when Dean’s knees buckled and came over Cas’ fingers.

They stood like that for a while again, only the sound of their harsh breathing echoing against the bathroom tiles. When Dean had finally regained part of his composure, he turned around in Cas’ grip. ‘Let me –’ he started, but before his hands could unfasten Cas’ trousers, the angel took an abrupt step back.

‘Don’t you worry about that’, he murmured and disappeared.

Dean was left standing next to his perfect tub, with the cold creeping into his skin once more. He absently lifted his hand and rubbed his neck where Cas had kissed him.

He wasn’t going to get away with this that easily, Dean thought resolutely and he picked up the forgotten towel from the ground.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> A small one to celebrate my official joining of AO3 after years of lurking. Follow me on scrubyourheart.tumblr.com ;)


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